


All About Us

by wolfzaa



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, I just think I should tag it in case anyone finds it's triggering, M/M, Mike is still a minor, Mild Angst at the beginning, Pre-Relationship, Protective!Harvey, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, no underage sex though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 02:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10295399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfzaa/pseuds/wolfzaa
Summary: When Harvey turned fifteen, no mark appeared on his body.  He later realized, after months of false hope, that he was meant to be alone after all.On the other hand, when Mike turned fifteen, the first thing that appeared on his skin was a hickey.What a lovely sign, indeed.(Or, a Soulmate AU where every mark on your skin would show up on your soulmate's as well.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> FYI, I've no idea about laws and such. I used [this site](http://law.onecle.com/new-york/penal/part3/titleh/article130/index.html) as a reference.
> 
> Here's another Soulmate AU from me, because why not? ;)

 

When Harvey turned fifteen, no mark appeared on his body.

He locked himself up in his bedroom that birthday to explore every inch of his skin, to find any mark he never had before until this very day.  He had done some research.  Birthmarks and natural skin flaws, like moles or freckles or wrinkles, didn’t count, so he searched for those that caused by external factors instead: scars, bruises, tattoos, writings and such _._

But he couldn’t find one.

The boy wrote an awkward _“Hi”_ on the back of his left hand the next day with a blue marker.  Then he waited forty eight hours for a response.  He didn’t receive one, eventually, so he washed it off before he felt more like an idiot than he already had.

Harvey kept a pang of disappointment to himself.  On rational thoughts, it could be that he had no match, his soulmate hadn’t reached the age of fifteen yet, or that they didn’t want to communicate with him -- but that was okay.  Not that Harvey was desperate for a soulmate to begin with, only curious.  His parents weren’t imprinted either.  Gordon still believed in such things, romantic as he was, yet he still ended up with Lily.  Therefore Harvey had no intention to search for his soulmate when they decided not to show up.

At that time, he hadn’t yet realized of the significant number of divorce rate in un-bonded married couples.

At that time, he still had his innocence -- the way his future self would have long forgotten how to feel like one.

 

 

 

When Harvey turned sixteen, he stopped believing in soulmates.

To be specific, he stopped believing in any tale when he found out about Lily and whoever she had brought into his house; into his _dad’s_ , minded that.  Harvey’s world had turned upside down.  He locked himself in his room for days, denying speaking to anybody, and Lily’s worried sound from the other side of the door only made it all worse.  He thought he was about to have a heart attack for the briefest moment; then it changed into nausea… Gordon would be heartbroken if he told him.

His family would never be the same.

Harvey started pleading and screaming and crying in silence, alone like he had never been in his life, begging for _somebody_ to be there for him, to hear him, to save him, to hold him close--- to do _some_ _thing._ His soulmate was supposed to be here when he needed them the most -- when he didn’t know what to do or where to go.  They were supposed to _answer_ to this kind of desperate pleas.  They were supposed to _know._  They were supposed to be _there---_

But a hero that came in the last minute was only fictional.  Harvey had learned it the hard way.

Later on, Lily blamed him for not being able to deal with the situation, for _being_ such a kid.  Marcus wasn’t there when Harvey was stabbed and said he was overreacting.  He was too young to acknowledge how ugly his big brother’s wound actually was.  While Gordon--- Gordon was _devastated_ to notice anything after the truth came out.

A bunch of shaken scrawls of _“I need you”_ and _“Help me”_ and _“Please”_ and _“Where are you?”_ were left untouched under Harvey’s sleeve for God knew how long, but nothing ever showed up anyhow.

No one was ever there to read them.

Harvey realized, after months of false hope, that he was meant to be alone after all.

 

 

 

When Mike turned fifteen, the first thing that appeared on his skin was a hickey.

By the hour he would officially age, Mike strode into the bathroom and waited there in earnest.  Grammy had told him a lot about soulmark, that whatever found on his skin would show up on his soulmate’s as well, and she knew someday he would find the right person that was born for him and only him.  Mike’s parents were soulmates.  Maybe it was the only reason why he was so eager for his fifteenth birthday to come.  Mike had a few scars on his knees from cycling as a kid.  He kept wondering if his soulmate would notice the change as the clock ticked by.  There were thirty seconds left.  Twenty now.  Then fifteen.  Ten.  Eight.  Five.  Four.  Three.  Two…

One.

Then it happened.  A small brownish purple bruise-like blemish slowly appeared on the base of his neck by the second he hit fifteen.  Mike knew it was kind of lame but he couldn’t take his eyes off the mark in the mirror, awestruck like a goddamn idiot.

His soulmate really _existed_.

Mike smiled at himself for a couple minutes before reality hit him.  Hickey?  Oh, Trevor was never gonna let him live it down.  Okay, so, his soulmate got a hickey -- no -- hickeys, because he searched his body through and found a few more; one on the chest, another on his navel, and there were faded scratches on his back.  Mike didn’t know how he should feel about it.  It was… overwhelming, in a way.  Mike wasn’t sure if it was a good one.

He threw the weird feeling into the deepest corner of his brain and searched for less disturbing marks.  The only thing he found was a barely visible scar on his left shin, which looked like the owner had fallen down and slid along a rough surface.  An ordinary accident, maybe.  Or a scar of glory.  He would never know.

The high of knowing his soulmate’s existence faded after a short while, replaced by hundreds of _'what-ifs’_ his brain had pulled out on its own.  It kept whispering how he was invading his soul-partner’s privacy, staring at those hickeys like that, but he tried not to worry too much on that part.  Invading or not, it wasn’t like he could do anything about it.  Maybe he would leave them a note when those hickeys finally vanished.

_What if they didn’t want to leave their present partner?_

Mike quickly shook his head at that -- he was thinking too much right now.

He wished he could shut his brain up sometimes.

 

 

 

Mike didn’t need a scarf to hide the strange mark on his neck after a week.  Unfortunately, he still didn’t know how to start the ‘conversation’.

There was no sign indicating that his soulmate had noticed their recently shared scars.  What if his partner didn’t want him?  What if he wasn’t good enough?  What if they didn’t even work together as a couple?

What if his other half _left_ him?

It was unheard of but scary enough.  Trevor said he was overthinking things.  His Grammy scolded him every chance she got for how he still hadn’t got courage to give his soulmate a signal, saying it was a blessing, not a battlefield or a game of chess.  Her favorite line was “Don’t be a fool, Michael.  You can’t hide forever.  Just write something down already!” while Trevor’s was all “Seriously, man, she’s gonna bite your head off if you don’t write something down soon.”

So Mike followed their advice two days later.  He took a deep breath and scribbled a simple _“Hey”_ on his hand.

Then he waited.

 

 

 

Harvey wasn’t the one who first noticed the change.  Scottie did.

He was doing his essay in the library, too concentrated on the subject to be aware of anything else, when Dana tapped him greeting on his shoulder and smirked. “Counseling your essay with your soul-partner?  Quite desperate, aren’t you?”

“What?”

She cocked her head downwards.  Harvey quirked his eyebrow, half-irritated half-curious, before he flicked his eyes down and found a small _“Hey”_ in black handwriting on the heel of his left hand.

Harvey’s eyes widened in disbelief.  Scottie made an interested noise in her throat, cooing, “Aw, is this your first time getting _the_ call?”

“Shut up, Scottie.”

The brunette gave him an impressive eye roll. “Love bird,” she chided halfheartedly before sauntering away to find her own seat.  Harvey stifled a groan while staring at the scrawl on his hand, dumbfounded.  He must look like an idiot -- and it had to be in front of Scottie, of all people -- but he was too busy being confused to care about that.

It was… shocking.  His brain stopped functioning for the briefest moment as his instinctive part took control.  The first thing on his mind was that he had to stop his relationship with Scottie.  They had to go back to be just friends; no more benefits this time.  She already had a soulmate somewhere half a world away and agreed to live separate life for the time being, at least until they finally had a chance to meet in person.  Theoretically, she was bonded.  Practically, she was still free to do whatever she wanted with whoever she desired.  Harvey had been that _whoever_ thanked to her persuasion skill.  But not anymore.

Not in forever.

Then another part of him, the more sensible and less intuitive one, kicked in.  Why did his partner take so long to make a contact?  Why now, after all these years of being left behind?  Why now, when he had already lost his faith in soulmates and relationships?  Why now, when he had already decided he would live alone for the rest of his life?

Why now, when he had already labelled a hollow feeling inside his chest as a lost cause?

Harvey stared blankly at his hand, having no idea what to do.

He was conflicted, confused, angry, hurt, and maybe -- if he was honest to himself -- a little bit relieved that he wasn’t alone after all, yet it was still too early to admit that kind of feelings.  His scar was too big to be ignored.  He wasn’t ready to be overwhelmed by another wave of emotions than he had already faced.

Harvey had never been prepared for this.  Harvard was fresh air for him, a gold opportunity that wouldn’t come up twice, so he tried his best not to screw things up again, struggling even.  Harvey swore to himself he would live up to his potential here, having a new life as an actual adult on the road to success, not an emotionally wrecked teenager he had been since the incident with his mom or a walking chaos after he had quit baseball.  Actual adult equaled no more emotional attachment, no more delusion that there was someone out there to save him.  Close relationships only brought problems and Harvey didn’t want to deal with them any time soon.  He was content enough on this solitary path.  He had always been alone.  He thought he always would be.

Then a simple greeting appeared on his hand, and his plan was completely ruined.

His partner didn’t make a second attempt to connect with him; though the letters hadn’t been washed off either.  Harvey debated with himself for days, weighing his options just to reach the same dead end every damn time.  He needed more information to decide his next move -- whether he would let this soulmate thing continue or cut them loose -- and the one holding the lost piece here wasn’t him.

_How old are you?_

Words formed on the inside of his wrist before he could change his mind and ducked out like a coward.  Harvey didn’t need to wait long until an answer appeared on his skin, right beneath the question:

_15, obviously. You?_

Harvey didn’t remember holding his breath until now.  He closed his eyes in pure relief.  His partner hadn’t abandoned him.  The kid was just too young to acknowledge the truth.  He wasn’t alone.

He had no idea if the warm, blissful ripples spreading throughout his body was only his imagination, but for the first time in too many years, Harvey let himself savor the feeling.

 

 

 

Mike’s soulmate was now 26.

 _26_ \-- Jesus.  That sounded lonely as fuck and Mike wanted nothing more than to make up for all those years he had missed; although it couldn’t be his fault that he was born eleven years too late, right?  Those eleven years had their price, however, since his soul-partner seemed a bit reluctant to open up after that.

_What’s your name?_

_H._

Mike blinked at his wrist.  Maybe a bit reluctant was an understatement, but it was okay for him to do so.  Some people might throw themselves at one another since the very first moment of connection, but Mike couldn’t just give away his trust that easily and wholeheartedly.  Apparently, neither could his soulmate.  Mike had always been an outcast thanked to his freaky brain, so this wasn’t something he couldn’t relate to.

 _Call me M then_ \-- was Mike’s answer.  He could play being discreet too if the person on the receiving end wanted to do one.  He paused for a second before adding -- _Male. Brooklyn._

_Male. Cambridge. And that is really all there is to report, sir._

Mike blinked again; then beamed.

_Does that make you 007 in this scenario?_

_Does this mean you’ve lost confidence in me?_

_I’m well aware of your talents, 007._

_Touché._

Watching letters magically appeared one by one was fascinating.  People were used to read everything in one go; mails, emails, texts, notes, where the whole message was already there to see.  But this?  This was different.  This was all about watching and waiting for the other guy to finish his sentence, slowly but deliberately.  Every movement of H’s handwriting was neat and confident Mike wondered if it had anything to do with the guy’s personality.

Mike didn’t want to erase their conversation, but he couldn’t stop H from wiping it off by the end of the day.  Only traces of black and blue ink were left behind as a proof that he wasn’t only dreaming.

It couldn’t stop the warmth that smeared all over his chest anyhow.

 

 

 

M was a kid.

A brilliant kid, actually, if his random witty remarks were any indication.

Harvey tried not to pay too much attention to him.  He had more important things to do in his life, like studying and winning and beating Scottie in mock trial.  However, the kid had quite a pull that Harvey couldn’t resist.  He didn’t know how.  He wasn’t sure why.  It was just… weird, knowing someone was waiting for him out there, back in New York.  Harvey was now wearing long sleeves shirt or Henley on daily basis due to random doodles and ramblings he got on his arm.  This kid never really shut up, getting replies or not.  It was both irritating and endearing at the same time.  The boy dug everything he had tried to bury for good back up to the surface--- and the terrifying part was that Harvey strangely didn’t mind it at all.

It scared Harvey shitless how much he had grown fond of the kid in such a short time.  Soulmates should be something people have romanticized.  These layers of feelings flooding through his nerves shouldn’t be _real._  How could it be possible to feel so much for a mere stranger?  Not to mention that said stranger was _eleven_ years younger than him.  Age difference wasn’t unheard of when it came to bonding, but the kid was still a _minor_ , for Christ’s sake.  How could this be legal?

But oh, it _was_ legal.  Harvey was a law student.  He _knew._  Soulmates law might be one of the most insane sections he had studied so far.  The bond would be protected in every way he could imagine since the first moment both parties turned fifteen.  He knew rights and obligations, exceptions and restrictions, terms and protections--- but understanding its legal aspect wasn’t the same as experiencing one.  The law didn’t say anything about _feelings._  Harvey wasn’t ready for this.

Maybe he never would be.

Or maybe he was just lying to himself.

 

 

 

They had learned a lot about each other over a year and a half.

Time flew by as things got more and more insane.  They used their left arms as though it was a private chat forum, according to Harvey, and Mike accidentally barked out a laugh during his chemistry class at that.  There were small bruises and scratches here and there when they got insect bites or tripped over something, but nothing serious came of it.  Mike was grateful he got no more love mark, and Harvey was relieved he never received one.

Chatting had never been this easy.

Suddenly, it wasn’t about just being soulmates anymore.

Harvey’s replies were usually terse, except for when he was in the mood for quoting movies, but they had learned many things nevertheless; from Mike’s eidetic memory (in which Harvey had yet to prove) to Harvey’s striving to win.  From their favorite food to their secrets, guilty pleasure, hidden obsession -- in books, movies, baseball, basketball, good jazz, good quotes -- all of them.  Still, despite every conversation that ever happened, never once had they exchanged further personal information on their identities; no names, no addresses, no cell numbers, not a clue.  Sometimes Harvey forgot that there was a boy at the end of the line, and Mike rarely imagined the other man’s face while writing something back.  It was hard to visualize someone they had never seen as a real, actual person, especially when they had nothing at all to help identifying the guy.

Consequently, Mike’s left arm became his secret blog while Harvey mockingly called it a journal.  It was a secret safe zone they hadn’t had for a long time; longer than Mike thought he ever wanted, longer than Harvey could even remember.  Here they could write anything, confess everything, and no one would judge, or hold it up against them, or look at them with different eye.  Harvey had no reputation to maintain, Mike had no reason to hide who he actually was.  They didn’t know each other.  They didn’t have anything to lose.  Here they had a perfect rhythm, a flawless yet effortless dynamic between two people.  Sometimes they were curious if the other one were real, sometimes intrigued by their partner’s true identity, but dared not to break the pace just yet.

Things were good, in their own way, but surely things wouldn’t last forever.

 

 

 

Harvey was back in New York during Spring break when not-so-pretty bruises and cuts appeared out of nowhere.  The barista pointed them out for him while he was waiting for his coffee after his meeting with Gordon -- well, at least his father didn’t have to witness it.  Harvey found it hard to let anyone sharing his surname know about this little secret, even Gordon; maybe especially a romantic like Gordon, to be honest.  Dealing with his inner self could be disastrous enough.  Harvey didn’t need another problem, read: his own family’s reaction and tons of uncomfortable questions, in his life.

He looked into the mirror, partly confused, mostly furious.  Although he felt no pain, the suppressed part of his soul finally snapped at the reflection of damages that landed right on his jaw, temple, and ribs -- damages that his mate _was_ suffering.  Harvey trailed his fingers along the wound near his eyebrow; no blood, only shapes, yet the man bet it must be pretty messy on M’s side.  The thought was his final straw.  Somebody had beaten the shit out of _his_ boy.

Of course, Harvey saw red.

His initial plan was to stay in Manhattan only for a couple days, but not anymore.  This couldn’t be ignored.  This was unacceptable.  This was urgency.  His killing mode was now in high gear before he could even think twice.  He knew he was on the threshold of accepting the boy into his life, the one with the highest probability to destroy his well-built cold _I-don’t-care-a-thing_ façade, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  Nobody dared to touch what was Harvey Specter’s.  Nobody had rights to.

And M was, without question, _his._

_Who did this to you?_

It took M an hour to notice his message.  Harvey was considering tracking him down (how, he didn’t know yet) when the kid finally answered.  His handwriting shook slightly as letters formed into words:

_I’m fine._

_You’re not.  And after I’m done kicking his ass, the guy who did it isn’t going to be either._

_Just let it go H._

_Harvey Specter._

_What?_

_My name. Yours?_

The boy was taken aback for three more minutes.

_Mike Ross._

Harvey groaned a little as his brain chanted the name repeatedly, drinking it in as much as he could -- Mike, Mike, Mike -- his Mike.  His boy.  His and his alone.

_Your location._

_Right… now?_

_Yes.  And stay right there.  I’m coming to get you._

 

 

 

Mike had no idea what was happening.

His heart pounded so hard it hurt and threatened to take a suicidal leap off his chest.  H’s--- No. _Harvey’s_ handwriting was still all over his arm as a reminder of how he wasn’t hallucinated.   _Kicking his ass_ , he wrote.   _I’m coming to get you_ , he wrote.  Wasn’t the guy in Boston?  And since when had the guy cared about Mike’s well-being?  Since when had he cared about anyone but himself anyway?  Didn’t Harvey say he was too busy for these kinds of thing?  Mike didn’t know.

To Mike, Harvey was a flickering blurry shape popping up inside his brain whenever he saw the writings, not an actual man with flesh and blood and complexity.  He only knew what Harvey said, not how he operated.  He didn’t even know his name until just now, for heaven’s sake.

Mike didn’t know what to expect when Harvey told him to stay put and make sure he was safe from whoever (or in Harvey’s word: the bastard) he had a problem with.  The boy bought a small packaged ice to do something with all the bruises; then went finding a bench to sit on in the park nearby.  He couldn’t go home like this anyway.  Oh, Grammy would be _exasperated_ if he dared to.

Then, after what felt like hours (thirty four minutes, to be precise), a guy in black button-up shirt and grey jeans showed up, and Mike just _knew._  Okay, those colorful bruises on his face were helpful too, but there was this voice screaming in the back of his brain, pointing excitedly at the guy like it had been waiting for this moment since forever.

And this H guy was royally _gorgeous._

Unbiasedly, Harvey Specter was far from what Mike had hoped for; though in a good way.  He had tried to recall their former conversation over the last eighteen months while waiting, nervous and awkward as he was, then he pictured a typical law student; already mature, kind of nerdy and full of cocky, douchey grin, with average features and average height and everything.  This Harvey, however, wasn’t near anything that could be described as ordinary.  He was astounding with those piercing deep brown eyes, strong jawlines, back straight, long legs, strong arms, slicked back hair, and perfect posture that radiating power, confidence, and authority like no one Mike had ever known before.  He could easily intimidate the whole court just by his presence if he wanted to, especially if he put that annoyed, _don’t-you-dare-fuck-with-me_ face on.  Mike gulped, stunned, as strange warmth flushed throughout his body and brain.  Was he always this dazzling, or was it an effect of their bond?  Was that man really Mike’s other half?

Harvey sighed when their eyes locked together.  The man strode across the park to him, his eyes narrowed at the sight of dry blood -- the only thing Harvey didn’t seem to have.

“Uh,” Mike mumbled awkwardly after what seemed like a staring contest. “Hi?”

“Who did this to you?”

Lovely greeting, indeed.

“I had… a fight… with my friend.  It’s no big deal, dude, really.”

Harvey rolled his eyes in exasperation, which was quite impressive due to how deep the emotion could be shown in one simple move, but Mike wasn’t going to mention that now.

“First, don’t call me dude.  Second, I know exactly who’s lying and who’s not.  Start over.”

Mike hesitated. “It’s nothing.  Just some misunderstanding with these… y’know, people.”

“People?”

“Collaborators, of sorts,” the boy murmured. “Why are you in New York anyway?  Isn’t all this against your don’t-care policy?”

“It’s Spring Break.  This is where I’m gonna be after Harvard.  Stop deflecting and answer my question.”

“You haven’t asked any question.”

“Collaborators?”

“That’s not a question,” Mike pointed out.

“Fair enough, but I’m not in a mood for games.  Now, _Mike_ ,” Harvey lowered his voice dangerously, “What kind of thing would require you needing collaborators and ending up like this?  Test cheating?  Faking ID?  Drugs?” The boy flinched. “Yeah, drugs.  Which one?  E?  Weed?” Mike pursed his lips, eyes flicked down stubbornly like a runaway child caught red handed.  Harvey took it as a confirmation. “Weed it is.”

“Hey!  I wasn’t the one dealing it, okay?” Mike protested, suddenly offended, as he forgot how intimidating Harvey was for a moment. “Who do you think you are anyway?  We’ve just known each other’s real name for like, what?  An hour?  You have no say in what I did and didn’t do!”

“No, I haven’t.  But if I’m going to kick somebody’s ass, I need to know the whole story,” Harvey shot back, sharp and clear. “You don’t want to say -- fine.  You don’t seem like a dealing type to me.  Getting high, however…” he slightly tipped his head to one side. “No, you don’t deal.  You smoke, but haven’t for weeks.  I assume that’s all the drugs you do.  You’re clearly covering for someone, not that I think they’re worth protecting, at any rate.”  
  
Mike looked bewildered. “How did you know all that?”

“You read books, I read people,” Harvey replied with the matter-of-fact tone. “You don’t deal but you don’t want to say.  That only leads to one thing.  Plus, potheads smoke pot.  That’s what they do.”

“That’s not all I do.  I have interests.  I’ve told you so!”

“Oh, I’m so sure of that, kid.”

Frowning, Mike slumped back onto the bench.  This whole thing was crazy.  This Harvey guy was crazy.  He himself, too, was crazy.

“My friend deals pot.” Mike gave in eventually. “He… called for help, more like an eyewitness for contracts of sorts, so I went with him.”

“It didn’t go well.”

“Who are you?  Captain Obvious?”

Mike caught a flash of amusement underneath layers of concerning, nearly raging brown, and his own offensiveness instantly died down.  Having Harvey right before him was nothing like writing back and forth.  The mood changing pace was more sudden.  Less thinking.  More feeling.  Even more…real.  Harvey’s little gestures and voice showed so much more than a dull emotionless handwriting.  This wasn’t a guy who didn’t care.  Here Mike was facing someone who tried to hide all his emotions yet had them displayed better than anyone.  Mike could feel them all: tension, worries, relief, protectiveness, floating rich around them like an invisible shelter, promising him safety.

Maybe it simply was an effect of the bond, but maybe Harvey wasn’t that good at being not care as he first thought.

Or maybe, maybe, he just reserved it only for Mike.

Forget all the previous pain and Trevor’s bullshit.  This was worth it after all.

 

 

 

“It looks really bad there,” Mike commented. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Sure you are.”

“Sure I am.”

Sarcasm bit hard, but Harvey could still sense the apologizing tone lying beneath.  The boy was… well, still a boy.  Nothing was unexpected except for those bright eyes staring right back at him, studying the matching swelling on his jaw.  Mike’s eyes were blue, the bluest blue, the most beautiful shade of blue Harvey had ever seen that screamed intelligence and how brilliant the kid really was.

Harvey calmed down after he had figured out what happened.   _Be rational_ , Harvey reminded himself, _no more instinct-leading stunts if you don’t wanna end up being a murderer or some shit._  Moreover, apart from dry blood around the collar, Mike looked pretty much fine.  Sore, but the cuts weren’t deep enough to leave scars, and he already had an ice pack for the bruises.  There was nothing left to be worried about.

The meeting was easy, though; much easier than Harvey had secretly feared.  There was no bursting emotions, no song in the background, no world-changing or speechless breathtaking moment; only familiar feeling itching under his skin as if he had known the boy for all his life, more like a reunion rather than a first meeting.  More like being _whole_ , the way he had never felt since he was sixteen.

Plus, Mike seemed to be a good kid -- full of potential and possibilities he didn’t quite know how to explain -- which could be counted as an explanation itself.  Too smart for his own good, let’s put it like that, but still a kid nonetheless.  He was everything Harvey never knew he had always hoped for and nothing he ever thought he would deserve.  Or maybe he was just too real, as well as everything that just happened within the past hour.

“We need to have a conversation about this at some point,” said Harvey, “But it’s getting late here.  Do you want a ride?”

“Can I crash at your place?” Mike asked with hopeful eyes, standing up to face him properly. “I can’t go home like this.  Grammy will be upset for sure.  You two might get along, you know?  She’s the only one I have left and she doesn’t like Trevor much either.”

“Trevor.”

“Shit.” Alarming, Mike’s eyes grew wide as Harvey’s darkened.  The name sounded so wrong to Harvey’s ears like a bad news.  Mike needed to cut this Trevor kid loose before he had a chance to bring something worse into their lives, Harvey mused as he placed his hand under Mike’s chin, tilting up until their gazes were perfectly aligned.  Their bodies leaned closer unconsciously.  Their eyes never shifted.  They could have an audience, staying this close, but no one seemed to mind.

“You’re mad at me.” Mike broke the silence first.  Harvey shook his head, tracing his thumb along bruised jawline.  Index and middle fingers rested casually under Mike’s ear while the others were on his pulse point.

“Not exactly.”

“He’s my best friend,” Mike whispered, already dazed by the touch that sparked a tantalizing feeling inside his chest yet too stubborn to surrender. “It means the same to me.”

Harvey both hated and loved a clear sign of loyalty shining in those icy blues.  A good trait reserved for a wrong person.  That could be arranged, though.

“We will talk about this later.” Harvey dropped his hand back to his side. “We have all night.”

Mike scoffed but let the subject slide.  Instead, he mumbled, “Wow, that sounds incredibly dirty.”

Harvey glared. “No.”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re implying.”

“I implied nothing.” Mike put on his best innocent face but his eyes were flickering in amusement.  Those baby blues would be the death of him, Harvey reckoned. “FYI, I’m almost seventeen now.  I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You still have at least half a year to be considered consent.”

“Soulmates are legal.”

“You’re a minor.”

“ _130.05 Sex offenses; lack of consent.  3. A person is deemed incapable of consent when he or she is: (a) less than seventeen years old, except the person was imprinted with the other party as such term is defined in section 1-c of the Soulmates law and such person wasn’t incapable of consent by reason of other factors_ \-- which I’m neither -- _(b) mentally disabled; or (c) mentally incapacitated; or (d) physically helpless;_ or so on,” Mike recited, smirking.  Then he frowned at the incredulous look in Harvey’s eyes. “You didn’t think I’d fall for that trick, did you?”

“How did you know that?”

“I read it.”

“You read it?”

“What?  I’m curious.  Haven’t I told you about this?”

Mike poked the side of his head and Harvey nodded slowly.  Right, eidetic memory. _Too smart for his own good, wasn’t he?_

“Whatever, Einstein.  Now, if you wanna go back to my room, call your Grammy.  Tell her you’ll be out with your soulmate for a couple days.  I’ll patch you up.  Then we’ll have a talk.  I’m not done with this particular friend of yours yet.”

“You don’t even know him,” Mike groaned in protest, no real heat detected, which Harvey counted as a good sign.

“From what I see on our faces, I think I know enough.” Harvey shook his head. “And I have to warn you that I’m not the type to let this kind of things go easily.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Harvey chuckled. “Good boy.”

The praise slipped out naturally, mixed with sarcasm and pure amusement.  He didn’t expect Mike to inhale sharply and freeze in place, his eyes immediately shut tight like Harvey’s words had sent shivers down his spine and it was too much for him to bear.

Just like that, the clock stopped ticking.

The reaction made his imagination run wild before Harvey could stop himself.  And before he could even realize what happened, Harvey’s hand was already on the back of Mike’s head, pulling the boy closer.  Mike made a soft choking noise as their breath mingled, noses brushed and lips parted slightly in response; too close to be platonic yet too far to be called a kiss -- right where they should be.

Right where they should _have_ been, only if he could---

Harvey stopped mid-track.  He couldn’t start things he knew damn too well he wouldn’t be able to stop, so he took a deep breath, carefully backing away before he did something threatening his morality.  Eleven-year gap was a bitch he couldn’t just ignore no matter how much he wanted this.

It wasn’t just about being soulmates anymore.  It was all about having Mike in his arms.  It was all about _them_ ; their lives, their relationship, and their possibilities of their shared future.

It was all about them.

With a long suffering sigh, Harvey finally muttered through his gritted teeth, “All of this should be illegal, goddamn it.”

Mike was snapped back to reality; then burst out laughing.

 

 

 

This was going to be so good.

Mike just knew it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Quote references:  
>  _“And that is really all there is to report, sir.”_  
>  007 to M—The Man with the Golden Gun (1974)
> 
>  _“Does this mean you’ve lost confidence in me?”_  
>  _“I’m well aware of your talents, 007.”_  
>  —On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969)
> 
> Btw, English is not my first language and this is non-beta, so sorry for any mistake you see and feel free to correct them. Thanks for reading!


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